


Dance With Me

by smartgirlsaremean



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:10:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartgirlsaremean/pseuds/smartgirlsaremean
Summary: Belle French and Jefferson Bucket are Latin ballroom dance partners, and Gold is their dance coach. They’re favorites going into the Manhattan Amateur Classic, but Gold’s rival coach (and former partner) Cora Mills appears on the scene, teaching her daughter Regina and her partner Leo. There are now a few problems: Belle is getting really lousy at hiding her crush on her teacher, Regina hates dancing with Leo, and Cora might be trying to either rekindle her romance with Gold or sabotage his students’ chances at the classic. Maybe both? And nobody can figure out what the hell Gold wants.





	1. Timing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adorabledeplorablefoxy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=adorabledeplorablefoxy).



> For adorabledeplorablefoxy on tumblr who prompted: dance, teachers, rivals, comic, Australia.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle has bad timing. So do a few other people.

“Miss French, you are behind _again_.”

Belle, her face sweating and her hair falling in her eyes, threw her hands up in the air and rounded on her coach. “I am _not_.”

“You are. You’re about a quarter of a beat behind in the side-by-side and it’s throwing off your synchronization.”

“I’m not behind, he’s ahead!” Belle insisted.

“What?” squawked her partner. “Am not!”

Gold sighed and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “Even if that were true, it wouldn’t matter. On the dance floor, if nowhere else, _he_ is in charge. You must match him.” He raised the remote control for the stereo. “Once more.” Belle rolled her eyes and took her place across from Jefferson. “Magic Carpet Ride” started up again and she locked eyes with her partner, slinking towards him and taking his hand when it was offered.

They were only a little halfway through the routine when the music cut off and Belle heard Jefferson sigh as they came to an abrupt stop, Belle teetering on her heels. Jefferson steadied her and glanced at Gold, who stalked across the floor, tablet in hand. Thrusting it in front of them, he began the video that he’d apparently been recording as they danced, and Belle bit her lip.

Damn it. She _was_ behind.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “I _know_ I’m counting correctly. I was sure I was on beat.”

“Mr. Bucket, take five,” Gold said, taking the tablet out of her hands, and Jefferson patted Belle on the arm before striding out the door, his phone already at his ear.

“There’s nothing wrong with your counting,” Gold said quietly when he was gone. “You know this routine backwards and forwards; you could probably dance it in your sleep. Knowing isn’t your problem and never has been.”

“So why am I behind?” Belle felt tears prick at her eyes. “We’re a month out from the Classic; if I can’t get this right…”

“You think too much,” Gold said simply. “You need to stop thinking so much about the choreography and _feel_ it instead. Dancing is more than steps and counting, it’s _emotion_.” He flipped through a couple of songs before settling on “Hound Dog” from _Smokey Joe’s Cafe_.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed her.

Belle followed his instruction and swallowed a gasp when he took her hand and pulled her into position. “Your feet complement the percussion,” he said quietly. “Don’t get distracted by the melody, feel the bass and drums. Let them guide you.” The percussion and bass throbbed in the studio and he dropped the hand at her shoulder; she took the cue to open her eyes and dance around him as he stood still, his hand still firmly in his grip, switching hands when he needed to. The numbers floated into her head again… _2, 3, 4and1, 2, 3, 4and1_ …

“Stop counting,” he said sternly, and Belle took a deep breath and closed her eyes, finding that place where her body and the music merged. She knew the moment she’d got it right - her movements felt almost effortless and the beat seemed to vibrate in her bones. At last, dropping his hand, she glided around to face him and completed a final turn, finishing with one hand at his shoulder and her chest nearly flush with his. She opened her eyes and looked up, surprising a small smile on his usually serious face.

“Better,” he said. “ _Much_ better.”

Belle’s heart fluttered and she thanked the stars that she could blame the dancing for her quick breath and accelerated pulse; she wasn’t sure how she’d survive the next month of rehearsal and competition if he discovered the crush she’d been nursing since day one. The tap of Jefferson’s heeled shoes on the polished floor made her start, and she stepped hastily away from her coach, who looked utterly unperturbed.

“Mr. Bucket,” he said, giving a formal little bow as he limped back to where he’d left his cane by the stereo. Jefferson stood opposite Belle and grinned at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Shut up,” Belle hissed, poking him in the shoulder.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jefferson insisted, his hands raised.

Their music began again and Belle drew herself to her full height, launching herself into the routine. When the last note sounded she was suspended in a final pose inches above the floor, and Jefferson grinned triumphantly into her face.

“Wow,” he said reverently, “that’s the best we’ve ever done it.”

Her face flushing with success, Belle pulled on his arms to assist him as he helped her out of the dip. She chanced a glance at Gold, whose face was a calm mask. “Well done,” he said softly. “Mr. Bucket, make sure to adjust your grip a little sooner before the turns; you don’t want to wrench her wrist. Miss French, mind your fingers, they’re a little stiff.”

Jefferson snorted. “Come on, Goldie, that rocked and you know it.”

“And if this were a talent contest or reality show, you’d no doubt sweep the floor with the competition, but you are competing against the best amateur dancers in the sport. The smallest mistake could cost you.”

“He speaks from experience,” drawled a new voice. “I’d listen if I were you.”

Belle hadn’t thought Gold’s face could get colder or more impassive, but apparently this was a day for learning new things. He looked as if his expression were carved from marble when he turned to face the statuesque redhead standing near the door.

“Mrs. Prince.”

“Oh, no, you’ll be delighted to know it’s Miss Mills again,” purred the newcomer. “Divorce, you know.”

“My felicitations.” Gold clenched his cane in one hand and removed his iPod from the dock. “You have the room next, I suppose?”

“Yes, but there’s no hurry. Regina and Leo aren’t here yet, and you haven’t seen her since she was a girl.” The woman’s dark eyes narrowed on Belle and Jefferson. “Your students, I presume. Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Gold’s mouth quirked in a small smirk.

When the silence grew unbearable, Jefferson cleared his throat. “I’m Jefferson Bucket, and this is Belle French.”

“Cora Mills,” she purred, her eyes skimming over him appraisingly.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, suddenly recognizing her from videos she’d found. “Then you’re…”

“My former dance partner,” Gold interrupted.

Belle’s mind was a whirl. When he’d taken her and Jefferson on, she’d been careful to learn all about him: his early marriage and swift divorce, the son he raised on his own while competing, the rumored affair with his dance partner that ended when he found her with one of the judges, the car accident that robbed him of his ankle. The facts had seemed like a particularly compelling story while she read about them on a website, but they took on new life now that she was faced with the beautiful woman who’d had the privilege of dancing with Roderick Gold.

“You’ll excuse us, of course, Mrs. - ah - Miss Mills,” Gold said coldly as he approached the door. “We wouldn’t want your students to miss even a single moment of precious rehearsal time. From what I hear,” and he paused when he was next to her, his teeth bared in a mocking sneer, “they’re going to need it.”

Cora’s seductive smile twisted into an ugly scowl, and she glared at Gold’s back. Ducking her head, Belle shouldered her bag and followed, hoping Jefferson had taken the hint and wasn’t far behind.

“Wow,” Jefferson said when they were safely outside the studio. “She seems like a piece of work.”

“She got them disqualified from their first world competition,” Belle informed him. “Fraternizing with a judge.”

“Holy shit. How is she allowed to coach contestants?”

“Easy. She married the judge. His father pulled a bunch of strings, and…” Belle waved her hand vaguely.

“I guess nepotism is alive and well, huh?”

“Don’t ever doubt it.”

“But Goldie…he didn’t have some rich father-in-law pulling for him.”

“No,” Belle grinned, “but apparently he has a vicious right hook.”

“Huh?”

“He punched out Henry Prince when he found them together. They had to pull them apart. That pretty much cleared up any suspicions that he was complicit.”

“How do you know all this?” Jefferson asked.

“Internet. I was curious.”

Curious barely scratched the surface of how she’d felt when she’d first looked him up. Because they had no world championship and only one national title to their names - and that from nearly thirty years ago - photos and videos of Roderick Gold and Cora Mills were hard to come by, but not impossible. Cora had all the sensual grace of a jungle cat, and her sultry pouts combined with the grim intensity that characterized Gold were an interesting contrast to the wide smiles usually worn by competitive dancers. The chemistry between them had been undeniable, but Belle couldn’t help but feel they had been like firecrackers: bright and fast and furious, but not sustainable. Their routines were full of dizzying turns, intimate holds, and death-defying drops. Audiences adored them, judges were impressed by them, and they’d had the world at their feet when Cora betrayed her partner personally and professionally. Gold had lost his girlfriend, his dance partner, and his chance at a world title in one fell swoop, and had retired from dancing completely until her father approached him to coach her and Jefferson through their first classic and, hopefully, national competition. Belle still had no idea how Moe had convinced him to come out of retirement.

And now he was going to have to share rehearsal space with the woman who had broken his heart and nearly destroyed his career. It was going to be a hellish month.


	2. Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has kind of a weird day.

Regina Mills was really very good, Belle thought as she entered the studio the next day. She was solid and dependable, her technique flawless down to the points of her shoes, and though she greatly resembled her mother at that age, her expressions were more open and pleasant. She would probably be even more popular with the judges than Cora had been. There was just one problem: her partner, Leo White, was about as interesting as a slice of white bread.

Oh, he danced well enough, but his movements were calculated rather than inspired, his face bland, and Regina often looked as if she would rather be dancing with an actual lizard. They had no chemistry at all, and Belle knew that if they made it through the Classic (doubtful at this rate) they certainly wouldn’t place at Nationals. It was astonishing that Cora seemed blind to this problem, or at least to the real cause, praising Leo incessantly and constantly criticizing her daughter.

“Regina, how many times must I tell you?” Cora sighed now as the couple fumbled through a turn sequence. “You simply must spot your turns properly. You’re making yourself dizzy, and you’re throwing dear Leo off as well.”

Regina mumbled an apology, her face bright red, and the pair went through the turns again. Belle concentrated on warming up near the back of the studio, and was so immersed in stretches and exercises that she almost didn’t hear Gold come in.

The shift in Cora’s tone was immediate; her voice dropped in pitch and her words became more honeyed. As far as Belle could tell, her intended audience remained oblivious and paced the perimeter of the studio floor until he stood right next to Belle, his eyes fixed on hers as if he wasn’t even aware the others were in the room.

“Good afternoon, Miss French,” he said, hooking his cane over the barre and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“You’re here early.”

“I forgot our rehearsal had been moved back,” he said with a bit of an irritated bite in his voice. Gold eyed her position on the floor in staff pose, her legs straight in front of her as she bent down to touch her forehead to her knees. “Don’t let me disturb your warm-up, Miss French.”

“You’re not. And you don’t have to call me that, y’know.” Belle straightened and moved into a wide-angle seated forward bend. “I’ve told you ‘Belle’ is fine. We see each other every day, after all.”

“Hmm.” He seemed distracted. Belle glanced over her shoulder at where Cora was making Regina repeat a sequence. Poor girl.

“I think they’re almost done.” Rising slowly, Belle next bent into a wide-legged forward bend, sighing as the muscles in her legs stretched. Gold didn’t answer her, and when Belle glanced at him he looked a little dazed. He blinked when he sensed her gaze on him and met her eyes, his face flushing a bit.

“Sorry?” he asked.

Huh. This was new. It was true he’d never seen her warm up before - she was always first at the studio, followed by Jeff and then Gold himself - but she hadn’t thought that was something he’d be… _interested_ in. He’d never acted as if he were remotely attracted to her, unless keeping the ultimate professional distance between them could be interpreted as attraction. But then, he’d broken that pattern yesterday, hadn’t he, when he’d taken her hand and made her dance around him. Maybe the thrill of being so close wasn’t as one-sided as she thought.

A mischievous idea popped into her brain and she suppressed a grin. “Could you maybe give me a hand? Jeff usually does but since he’s not here yet and you are…”

“I, um…what would you need me to do?”

“Nothing, really, just stand there.” Well, it was the truth.

“I am quite adept at standing still,” he quipped dryly, one corner of his mouth quirking when she giggled. She stepped closer, lifted her right leg high in the air, and pressed her ankle against his shoulder. Gold’s eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped open.

“I would use the wall, but the mirror’s too slick,” Belle said casually, wrapping her hands around her knee and leaning into the stretch.

“And, ah, you say Mr. Bucket usually…helps you?” Gold’s voice sounded a little hoarse and Belle hid her smile against her leg. His hand was gripping the barre so hard she was almost afraid it would splinter.

“Usually, but he’s not here yet. You don’t mind?”

“Ah…no, of…of course not.”

She lowered her leg, gave him a moment to pretend that he wasn’t catching his breath, and then performed the stretch with her left leg. He’d apparently recovered his composure; though his face was still a shade darker than usual, his eyes had relaxed and his mouth turned up a little at the corners. When her ankle slipped against the smooth fabric of his suit jacket, he reached up to hold her steady, and it was Belle’s turn to catch her breath. His smile twitched and his thumb brushed ever so lightly against her ankle, and Belle bit her lip.

“Salutations!”

At the sound of her partner’s voice in her ear Belle gasped and nearly fell over, gripping the barre for balance and dropping her ankle from Gold’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Bucket.”

Jefferson grinned at Gold’s quelling tone. “Finished warming up, Belle?”

“Not quite.”

“Really? You look pretty warm to me.”

Actually her skin felt hotter than the Australian outback, but she would sooner die than admit it. She settled for glowering at him while performing a few final stretches. Gold had walked off to fiddle with the stereo. Jefferson went through a few warmup exercises of his own and then leaned against the mirror while their counterparts finished their final combination. The execution was…uninspiring, but their time was up, and they left the floor, Regina’s face the picture of relief.

“Mark the fall-away and slip pivot in the paso doble,” Gold said. “Miss French, watch your timing. Bucket, hold your frame.”

Belle blew out a gust of air and stepped into her partner’s arms as the music began, determined to focus entirely on her rehearsal, but while Regina and Leo had stepped out, Cora had merely sidled closer to Gold by the stereo. Out of the corner of her eye Belle saw that she was speaking to him, her head tilted towards his and her movements catlike. Snippets of their conversation floated towards them and Belle couldn’t help but overhear.

“…old time’s sake…”

“…not one for sentimentality…”

“…really hold a grudge…”

“…mere professional courtesy…”

Belle shrieked suddenly as what felt like an anvil landed on her bare toes. Jefferson cursed and leapt back, and Gold materialized at her side, one arm stealing around her waist as she hopped on one foot.

“Sorry, Belle, shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Ice, Jefferson,” Gold snapped as he helped Belle limp to a chair.

“Poor dear,” Cora murmured. “I do hope nothing’s broken.”

“Out, Cora,” Gold growled as he removed Belle’s shoe. Jefferson had returned with a few cubes of ice wrapped in a towel. Gold took it and sat on a chair in front of Belle, holding her foot on one of his legs as he pressed the ice to her toes.

Cora sniffed and marched away, her back stiff and her head held high. Jefferson fluttered apologetically around Belle and Gold, leaving only to get more ice when the first cubes melted away.

“It’s feeling better,” Belle said as the pain dulled to a low throb.

“You’re sure?” His hands rubbed her foot firmly enough to soothe instead of tickle. “You can wiggle your toes?” She demonstrated, and his face almost relaxed into a smile. He placed her foot gently on the floor.

“I’ll be fine,” Belle reassured both men, noticing that both of them were still eyeing her worriedly.

“Watch your bloody feet next time, Bucket,” Gold grumbled, snatching the sodden towel out of his hands. “Both of you take the rest of the day. Belle, rest that foot.”

“Sorry, Belle,” Jefferson said when Gold was out of earshot. “I was trying a little too hard to hear what he and Cora were saying and…”

“Me too,” Belle chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jefferson glanced at her. “He was awfully attentive to you today. Did something happen yesterday that I don’t know about?”

“Don’t be silly,” Belle waved a hand and tried not to blush.

“I’m never silly.”

“Oh, right, sorry. I must be thinking of my _other_ dance partner, Befferson Jucket.”

“Hush, you.”

When they walked out of the studio, Belle noticed Regina sitting on a bench just outside the door, her arms wrapped around her middle and her face pure misery. Belle felt a stab of pity. Whatever her reasons for dancing, Regina didn’t look as if she remembered any of them. Leo, sweet guy that he was, hovered nearby, staring anxiously at her.

“Poor kids,” Jefferson muttered, and Belle nodded. “Hey,” he called out, marching over to the pair. “Rough day all around, huh?”

Regina eyed him suspiciously, but Leo nodded. “I felt like nothing went right,” he said in his soft, deliberate voice.

“Yeah, I felt pretty off today myself,. You know what we need? I think we all need to unwind a bit.”

“I never drink while I’m training,” said Leo.

“Who said anything about drinking? We all know there’s a more potent, exhilarating high.” Jefferson grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “I think we should go _dancing_.”

Regina snorted. “We dance all day.”

“Nah, we rehearse all day. I say we go out and just dance. Just for fun. That’s why we started in the first place, right? Because it’s fun?”

Belle smiled and Leo nodded solemnly, but Regina looked unconvinced.

“Come on, Regina,” Jefferson wheedled. “You must have liked doing this at some point. Let’s go somewhere that’ll help you remember that.”

After a moment Regina smiled, a hesitant trembling expression. “I think I know just the place,” she said, “but we can’t tell my mother.”


	3. Shut Up and Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go dancing. There are revelations.

Music, energetic and intoxicating, pulsed in the air of the club and synchronized itself with Belle’s heartbeat. She spotted Jeff and Leo -  the former in a deep purple shirt and white trousers, the latter in unrelieved black - and made her way to them. She felt like a new person - sexy and daring and exciting - in her shimmering blue dress; she knew that atmosphere could influence a person, but she wasn’t really prepared for Regina’s transformation. In a brilliant red dress with her hair styled in gentle waves around her face, Regina looked dangerous and exotic, but happy and relaxed. Belle grinned. Jeff was a genius.

“Well, aren’t we lucky bastards,” said genius chuckled, sweeping both women with an appreciative glance. He held out his hand to Regina and spun her out onto the floor. Belle smiled at Leo  when he made a similar gesture, and soon there was nothing but music and movement. Leo was a solid partner and, freed from the restraints of choreography, a lot of fun. The salsa bled into a cha-cha, then into a bachata, and Belle, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the sensual moves (at least with a near-stranger) stood against the wall and searched out her friends.

Leo was at the bar, Jeff dancing with someone new, and Regina - well, Regina was clearly in her element. Her partner, whom Belle recognized as one of the bartenders, held her plastered to his body so that they moved as one; she was almost boneless in his arms. A small crowd gathered around them, cheering them on.

Belle turned when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and her eyes widened when she recognized Gold. He’d forgone the suit jacket, vest, and tie, his dark blue shirt open at the collar. Compared to his usual outfits, he was practically naked.

“Hey,” she breathed, then realized he couldn’t hear her over the music. Setting her hands on his shoulders, she craned her neck to speak into his year. “What are you doing here?”

“Bucket invited me,” he answered, his breath warm on her neck. “He didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, her hair brushing his cheek, and she felt him take a quick breath. Grinning, she pulled back. “Dance?” she asked as the music slowed even further.

He raised his eyebrows and looked pointedly at his right hand. “Cane,” he said. “And you’re supposed to be resting that foot.”

“It’s a rumba, it’s slow,” she said, fixing him with a look Jefferson had once told her could wring honey from a rock. Its effect was not lost on this particular rock. He visibly faltered, then set his cane against the wall and pulled her into his arms.

They couldn’t move much beyond a slow shuffle, but Belle relished the feel of his hands and his warmth and his breath, and moved a little closer than necessary. Really, she wanted nothing more than to wind her arms around his neck and press against him, but she didn’t want to push her luck. Somehow, though, by degrees, she found herself nearly flush with his chest; his right hand, which had started in the proper position on her shoulder blade, had crept down and around until it was warm against her lower back, and her left hand had traveled from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, where her fingers found the ends of his hair. Belle looked up and her heart stuttered when she realized how close his face was to hers.

“Do you miss it?” she blurted, the silence suddenly too much for her. “Dancing?”

“Sometimes. More and more these days, I find. Coaching has its own rewards, though.”

“Like what?”

His eyes warmed and Belle caught her breath. He began to say something, but a commotion suddenly broke out on the floor behind her, and Belle turned to look.

Cora Mills had materialized on the floor near her daughter and was scolding like a fury, her face nearly as red as her hair. Regina’s dance partner held her tight to his side, answering her with calm sternness. Belle couldn’t hear anything they were saying, but her jaw dropped when Regina’s voice finally rang out over the crowd.

“Fine, then! I QUIT!” She grasped the man’s hand and turned, dragging him off into the crowd, leaving her mother white-faced and gaping in the middle of the dance floor.

“What was that?” Belle breathed, turning to look at Gold. He was smiling almost proudly.

“Regina hates competing, always has,” he said. “But Cora has never much cared for anyone but herself and her own prestige. She’s forced her daughter into it all these years. It seems Regina’s had enough.”

“How do you think Cora knew we were here tonight?” Belle asked suspiciously.

“I suspect some little bird or other told her.”

“Right.” Belle crossed her arms. “I don’t suppose the fact that they were competition influenced the little bird at all.”

“Them? Competition?” Gold scoffed. “Please. Those two were never going to place and you know it.”

“They could have! They were very good.”

“Yes, they were very good, Regina especially, but very good doesn’t cut it, dear. Regina may be a good dancer, but she doesn’t have your talent, passion, or charisma. She is good. You are divine.” He pulled her closer. “I didn’t need to sabotage them to help you win. You will win on your own merits. I would be proud of you, though, even if you fell and dragged Jefferson down with you.”

“Excuse me, I never fall!”

“No, you simply eavesdrop on conversations and get your toes crushed.”

“Jefferson was eavesdropping too!”

“I don’t much care what Jefferson was doing.”

“He’s your student, too.”

“Ah, yes. My student.” His face lost some of its animation. “That is what you are, isn’t it?”

Grinning, Belle wound her arms around his neck as she’d wanted to do before. “It doesn’t have to be _all_ I am.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Gold murmured, leaning forward to press his lips to hers.


	4. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few weeks later.

“God, I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous? This is the final round, for God’s sake. We’ve danced this routine a million times.”

“You’ll do wonderfully. Just keep your eyes on Jefferson and your feet in the drums. Everything else will fall into place.”

Belle exhaled slowly, leaning back into her coach’s chest. “Promise me when this is all over I won’t have to dance for a month.”

“But then whatever will we do with all that free time?”

“Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.”

Jefferson, who had been off settling his daughter with their friends, found them a few minutes later and cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse _you_ , would you please stop manhandling my partner?”

“She’s only yours for one more round, Bucket,” Gold growled. Belle giggled and pulled out of his arms, planting a quick kiss on his lips.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.”

Belle smiled widely, took her partner’s hand, and let the music swell inside her as she paraded out onto the floor with the other dancers. She spotted Grace, Regina, Daniel, and Leo in the crowd and beamed at them, then turned to her partner as the drums of the samba pounded in her ears. One more round and then, no matter the outcome, she would be able to spend the rest of the night in Gold’s arms.

The music took over, and they danced.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first ever RSS and man. This story just did not want to end. I hope it is at least partially enjoyable.


End file.
